


somebody that i used to know

by starlike



Category: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! - Dr. Seuss, Kellogg's "Frosted Flakes" Commercials
Genre: Angst, Breakup, M/M, this isn't crack this is a Serious fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlike/pseuds/starlike
Summary: "Normally, his songs were a direct outlet for his feelings, whatever they may be, and the catharsis he got from putting everything into words, into something that makes a semblance of sense, was the only thing that really kept him sane. But the only thing on his mind was his stupid boyf— ex boyfriend. "





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empyyrean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empyyrean/gifts).



> ilu caitlyn :>
> 
> inspired by [this tumblr post!](http://punkpixel.tumblr.com/post/151680165343/iguanamouth-prokopetz-lightninjohn) :D

Tony was a singer, a songwriter. It wasn’t just his profession, it was who he _was._

So that only makes it hurt all the more when he can’t think of a single thing to put on paper.

Normally, his songs were a direct outlet for his feelings, whatever they may be, and the catharsis he got from putting everything into words, into something that makes a semblance of sense, was the only thing that really kept him sane. But the only thing on his mind was his stupid boyf— _ex boyfriend._

Every time he went to assemble some letters with his pen, he'd find his eyes drifting over to the picture frame on his nightstand. It was tipped over, of course, but he spent so long looking at it every day that he'd memorized every detail.

He wasn't going to be the kind of tiger that wrote breakup songs, he _wasn't._ He mostly sang cheery tunes, songs that got the kids going — that was his thing. He wasn't gonna stoop so low as to writing a song about his ex.

That was the only thing his muse seemed to want, though. He couldn't think of anything else.

It wasn't _too_ horrible of a breakup, he supposed. It was a long time coming, for sure; they just had such wildly different personalities, interests, and ways of seeing the world. Grinch was always such a pessimist, a dark cloud hanging over his head and feeling like the world was out to get him. On his bad days, he'd take it out on Tony, griping at him about how he was so stupidly happy. He could brush this off, usually, but it piled up.

Now, here he was, fiddling with a pen between his paws and wanting nothing more than to vent his frustrations through the only way that's ever worked for him. But then he'd have written a breakup song, and there was never really any coming back from that.

He lets out an angry huff and sits up on his bed, pushing his notebook to the side and yanking the picture over to him. Irrationally, Tony kind of wants to chuck the thing against a wall, watch it shatter — but it's a fine frame, and that’d be a mess, not to mention a safety concern. Instead, he slips the worn picture out of the back, examining it now without the gloss of glass covering it. It looks more vulnerable, like this; like it could fall apart at any minute, just crumble into dust all over his hands. In reality, it's nowhere near that old — they'd taken it at a new year's eve party just two years back. Maybe it seemed so breakable because it was a metaphor for their entire relationship.

With a sigh, he traces Grinch’s smile with a claw, a combination of feelings roaring around in his chest — wistfulness, regret, and, most notably, irritation ebbing high enough to almost be considered anger. He impulsively grabs an edge and wrenches it down, only a little, but fast enough to not put much thought into it. The tear’s right over the insignificant space between their bodies, his green hair such a contrast to Tony’s own primarily orange fur, and, looking at the new imperfection, he’s hit with a crashing wave of relief. _That_ was the push he needed to blow past whatever lingering hesitation and guilt lurking around inside him, and now it’s like he’s free to do whatever he wants.

First, he finishes ripping the photo, slowly this time as to drag out the feeling. As he does this, he starts humming, a tune forming in his head.

“You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.”


End file.
